


Let's Make a Deal

by Mosca



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Loss of Virginity, M/M, Vehicular Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 16:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosca/pseuds/Mosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek owes Stiles for saving his life twice, and the score will never be even.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Make a Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Turnonmyheels for beta reading! This fills the "vehicular" square on my 2012 Kink Bingo card.

The third thing Derek learned, as a child of a werewolf family, was who not to bite. His father taught him how to recognize the transformation, how to lie, and then this. If it smells funny, don't kill it and don't bite it. "How will I know if it smells funny?" Derek asked when he was a kid, seven or eight, digging holes in the backyard while his dad smoked and nominally watched him.

"You know how humans smell and werewolves smell," his father said. "If you smell anything else, keep your teeth in your mouth." Jackson's fate had proved the worth of Derek's dad's advice. He smelled like nothing. 

Stiles smelled like too many temptations at once. Like Tabasco sauce and peanut butter, like teenage sweat, like lubricated Trojans. Like a neon "do not bite" sign. Derek had considered turning him as soon as he became Alpha, to keep him and Scott together, a natural pack. Derek had daydreamed about having Stiles under his command, tracing the bow of his lips, watching his long fingers turn to claws. But Stiles had smelled inhuman, illegal and unaccounted for, so Derek had obeyed his father's ghost. He'd struggled in the high school swimming pool, paralyzed for two hours with an erection, his lips an inch from Stiles's neck. The pulse of blood through Stiles's veins was too quiet for Derek to hear, especially over the thrash of water, but Derek could smell its adrenaline-spiked heat.

It frightened Derek that Stiles's smell turned him on. Desiring humans was never wise - a truth that his family had warned him of, and that Kate had driven home like a steel spike through his heart. An alpha's pack was his harem, and he shouldn't have needed to venture outside it. He'd turned Isaac, Erica, and Boyd to save them, but also because he knew what he liked. Angel curls, blonde femmes fatales, smooth brown skin. All that effort, and their cocky wolf selves weren't his type. Derek wanted awkward but socially adept, self-deprecating but strong. He wanted brilliant, the thing he knew he wasn't.

Stiles showed up everywhere, transporting bodies and distracting the cops, accidentally saving lives. He appeared at Derek's door on a Friday night with Erica passed out in the back of his Jeep and no explanation beyond, "Please help me deal with this."

Derek carried Erica over his shoulder and put her to bed on the air mattress he kept inflated in his sister's old bedroom for this kind of emergency. Erica began to come around as he covered her with a blanket. Her eyes were dilated, her lips cracked. "Sleep it off," Derek commanded. "No more drugs."

Stiles had decided to stick around in the foyer, texting whoever else was involved in this round of Teen Shifters In Peril. "Werewolves and Ecstasy don't mix," Derek announced, hoping Stiles would come up with the perfect retort. 

"Shouldn't she be bouncing off the walls and telling us she loves us?" Stiles asked. 

"Different body chemistry." Derek would have explained more if he'd known more.

"Oh." Stiles shifted his weight from foot to foot. He smelled like embers and pornography. "I... guess I'll go, if you know what to do from here. I gave my dad a lie to tell Erica's parents. Just get her home, I don't know, eventually." He didn't leave.

"You don't need to keep saving my pack," Derek said.

"It's not my fault you guys keep almost dying when I'm the only one around."

Derek believed that it had to be Stiles's fault somehow. He'd figure it out later, during his workout, when his head was clear. It was hard to think when other people were around, especially when they smelled like the path to damnation.

Stiles phone chirped with an incoming text. "Crap," he said as he read it. "Come with me."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Stiles said. "No details. But you owe me."

"What about Erica?"

"Do you actually care?"

"Yes." Derek looked over his shoulder toward the open bedroom door, just beyond his line of vision. "But I do owe you."

They got in the Jeep and drove into the woods. For a minute, the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the crunch of twigs under the tires. Derek liked Stiles best when he wasn't talking. He could tell that Stiles worked harder to keep his mouth shut than to open it. Derek smelled the tension and effort on Stiles's skin, vinegar and ash, the tang of arousal that Stiles's teenage hormones kept at a relentless simmer. Derek turned on the radio as if it could drown out the scent. "Call Me Maybe," and they both laughed, the same dry chuckle at the wrongness of the song. It was frightening for them to agree on anything.

"I don't want enemies," Derek said over the squeal of pop music, taking advantage of their temporary like-mindedness. "I don't want it to be my pack against yours."

"Darn those alpha dominance instincts, huh?" Stiles sneered. 

"We're all on the same side. You and I both know that. We know it better than anyone."

"You might not have noticed, but I'm not a wolf," Stiles said. "I don't need a pack."

Derek let that hang in the air so Stiles could hear how dumb it sounded.

"Come to think of it, why am I not a wolf? You bit the four other weirdest kids in Beacon Hills, but you won't sink a fang in me." It sounded like Derek's teeth weren't the body part that Stiles wanted sunk into him.

Or Derek was projecting. "You'd turn out wrong," Derek said. "I could smell it on Jackson, and I can smell it on you. I don't know what you'd turn into, but -"

"You don't want to find out?" Stiles finished the sentence better than Derek would have. "Don't worry. I don't either."

"See? We're on the same side."

"I _hate_ that," Stiles said with an undermining smile that made them almost friends.

"So we'll work together from now on," Derek said. "We'll fight off the Argents, we'll get Jackson under control, we'll -"

"There's still no 'we,'" Stiles said, eyes on the road. "You still owe me." His phone chirped, and he pulled it from his pocket smoothly, without easing off the gas pedal. "Oh, come _on,_ " he said to the phone. "False alarm," he told Derek. "Let me find somewhere I can turn around."

"False alarm?"

"Scott." Stiles's tone summed up what the name itself didn't. 

"I don't want to owe you," Derek said as Stiles screeched the Jeep into a hairpin U-turn. Derek grabbed Stiles's hand to avoid pitching forward into the dashboard. Stiles's burnt, sweet scent filled Derek's lungs. He tried to jerk his hand away, but Stiles pressed it down into the gear shift hard enough to cut off his circulation. Touching Stiles made Derek want to fuck the snide defiance out of him. The irony was, Stiles might have been sexually frustrated enough to let him - to welcome him. Sex might have been Derek's collateral, the way to even their score. If Stiles wanted it, there was no harm done.

"I'm taking you home," Stiles said.

"No," Derek said, his voice low and grim. When he spoke like this - like an alpha, like his father - people obeyed him. It was a personality trait, not a werewolf ability. He'd have it if he'd been born human. "No, you're pulling over."

"Why am I pulling over?" Stiles asked as he did it.

"Because you're losing your virginity."

Stiles made a variety of sounds, the aborted beginnings of sentences. "In my Jeep?"

"I could take you out into the woods, I guess," Derek said. "Or you could say no." He smiled, feeling his teeth sharpen to wolfish points. "But I owe you. And let's face it, I don't have that many things you want." 

The proposal had sounded so fair and respectful in Derek's head, but out loud, the words made him shiver. He heard Kate in them, leaning over him as she'd unbuttoned her shirt, the afternoon she'd first seduced him. He'd wanted her because he'd been sixteen and blind. The same age as Stiles.

But Stiles was more self-aware than Derek had been. "So we have sex, and I can't tell Scott, because... Scott. Or anyone, I couldn't - well, maybe Danny, but he'd take it the wrong way. Have I mentioned that I hate you?"

"Say no," Derek offered again. This time, it came out less like a threat and more like a plea. 

"There's more room in the back." Stiles cut the engine, took off his seat belt, and scrambled over the driver's seat. Stiles's awkwardness made him vulnerable, and vulnerability ignited Derek's wolf instincts. Slowly, to mask his eagerness, Derek got out of the car, pushed the passenger seat forward, and climbed into the back seat. 

Stiles sat like he was waiting for a dentist appointment. Derek pressed his palm into Stiles's chest until he was lying flat. He bunched Stiles's t-shirt up under Stiles's arms. Stiles grasped for the fabric, but Derek held his hands down. Stiles's belly was soft and white, slim but not toned. A thick trail of dark hair connected his navel to the waist of his jeans, and a bright red surgical scar slashed several inches of his left side. Stiles's self-consciousness about his body made Derek want to bury it in kisses. He fought to keep his teeth in check. Stiles moaned incoherently and went placidly still.

Derek took Stiles's cock out of his jeans. There was nothing easier to please than a sixteen-year-old boy. It wouldn't matter that Derek was far from a blow job expert. He'd made one attempt, in a threesome with Kate and a stranger she'd presented to him like prey, and that hadn't ended well.

But Derek was in control this time, and Stiles was so hard that Derek couldn't imagine a way for things to go badly. Derek eased his grip on Stiles's wrists, and Stiles thrust up into his mouth. All Derek had to do was cover his teeth with his lips and remember to breathe. Breathing was difficult with Stiles's scents converging in Derek's nose and eyes. Sweat, smoke, chocolate, clean paper, gasoline, pine needles. Derek almost pitched backward, overwhelmed.

Stiles came, a bitter slam to the back of Derek's throat. Derek turned away from him, coughed, and spat emphatically out the door.

Stiles lay across the back seat with his mouth open, eyes trained blankly on the car ceiling. Derek was still holding one of Stiles's wrists loosely. He picked up Stiles's hand and played with his fingers, long and slim, the nails suspiciously clean. He held Stiles's fingertips to his nose. Leather, red licorice, and hand soap.

Stiles sat up abruptly. "Okay. Let's go." Assuming he was being abandoned in the woods, Derek got out of the car and shut the door behind him. Stiles tumbled out of the driver's side and ran frantically around the front of the car, holding his jeans up with his hands. "Where are you going?"

Lacking an answer, Derek glared down at him.

"You don't want me to - you don't want to? Because I will. I assumed that was part of it." He looked down at Derek's crotch and then bravely into his eyes. "I kind of want to."

"Kind of?"

"I'm pretty desperately curious but also sure that I'll do it wrong and then you'll hurt me?"

Derek placed his hand on Stiles's shoulder, intending to patronize him more than comfort him. "I don't need that much of an excuse to hurt you."

"And yet you... _Got it._ " The corner of Stiles's mouth turned up, and his dimples deepened. He looked so satisfied whenever a piece of information clicked in his brain, as if understanding was the fuel that charged his battery. Not power or cunning, but the knowledge itself. Derek wondered if the Argents had ever battled an enemy like that.

"Honestly," Stiles went on, "I'd settle for touching your chest, because I'm not convinced that's real."

Derek leaned back against the Jeep and proudly took off his shirt. He stretched his arms over his head to make his pecs ripple. He'd worked hard for that muscle definition. He closed his eyes, baring his neck. He'd trained himself to fear this kind of trust, but he couldn't help longing for it. 

At first, Stiles was so tentative, it tickled. Derek squirmed, growling to suppress a giggle. Stiles got bolder, though, running his nails down Derek's chest, thumbing his nipples to make his toes curl. _Just touch my cock already,_ Derek thought, then stifled his shame as he realized he'd said it out loud.

Watching Stiles drop to his knees made Derek even harder, made his heart race. With the first stroke of Stiles's warm tongue on his cock, Derek clutched the Jeep's window frame and dug his heel into the wheel well. He didn't care if this was good, but it _was,_ Stiles's lips hot and firm around his cock. Derek wanted to come and wanted to last. He ached. His claws came out. He came.

Derek sank back into the car door, somehow still standing. He hadn't had sex since Kate had betrayed him. He resented Stiles for being the first person he'd trusted enough to end his drought. But Derek couldn't help adoring him, too. Stiles would always be a step ahead of Derek, and Derek would always be in his debt. But this was not a curse. It was smart to place a limit on his own power. Alpha status corrupted people. Derek had watched too many family members go over the edge. He needed to keep the human part of himself strong.

Stiles cleared his throat. "By all means, take your time, but it might not be the best idea to stand around naked this close to the road."

"All the kids are doing it these days," Derek said.

Stiles cracked a smile. Derek kissed him, the newness of his mouth an adrenaline rush. Stiles stroked his cheek. "I always thought it was like - shave or don't. But I like the way it feels, so don't change anything. Okay? Don't change."

The moon might have had something to say about that. Derek decided that the moon could go screw itself. "All right," he said. He put his pants back on. "You should take me home. You have school tomorrow, and I have a beta on drugs." He got in the car before Stiles could see what his claws had done to the Jeep's paint job.

They'd almost reached the main road when Stiles noticed, "You forgot your shirt."

Derek shrugged. "They're three for ten dollars at Walgreen's."

"That's... frugal." Stiles went quiet again. His silence made Derek wonder what was wrong and how he could fix it. "I can't decide whether it counts."

"Whether what counts?"

"Whether oral counts toward virginity." Stiles seemed genuinely troubled. 

"Do you feel like it does?" Derek heard the wisdom in his own voice. It perplexed him to be the authority figure. He didn't feel he'd earned his knowledge.

Color rushed to Stiles's face, writing the answer all over it. But he said, "Nah, you still owe me."


End file.
